


Jim Hunters

by Uniasus



Category: Trollhunters (Cartoon)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-26
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-09-20 00:06:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9466643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Uniasus/pseuds/Uniasus
Summary: After all his emphasis on the 's' in "trollhunters", Jim did the unthinkable and left them all behind. The only response is to find a way to hunt him down to tell him just what they think of that.





	1. Deal With It

**Author's Note:**

> **Timeline:** Time isn't mentioned much in the show, but I have a rough outline in my head that this takes place in the second half of the school year, mainly because there's no mention of Halloween (the one night the trolls could be seen in public - the episode possibilities!) or Christmas/Hanukkah (book Toby is Jewish). Plus, these episodes are more condensed than one a week.
> 
> So, the play took place in early March, giving them most of January and February to learn lines and the like. Jim mentions there's a whole month between the Bular and Angor Rot plots where his mom is still frosty, putting Strickler's return (and Claire's introduction to troll market and thus the team) in April. The Spring Fling I'm placing in early to mid May, the last bit of fun before AP testing for upperclassman and the stress of finals creeps in, with school letting out in mid-June.
> 
>  **Later Edit:** Season 2/3 sorta messed with the timeline above - having it wrap up about the time school lets out which would mean it all happened within a very tiny time frame. Or, there's an huge time gap and Jim enters the Darklands two weeks before school starts, meaning Season 2/3 takes place the next school year. But who cares?? This is totally a S1 AU still. But I had to figure something about this out. I also now suspect Claire is a year above the boys.

Draal was too angry to look at his father, so he looked at the soothsayer instead.

"This is your fault," he whispered, "Your fault he went through. Why did you tell him he had to finish the fight alone?"

Draal heaved a sigh, looking around at the remains of deceased Trollhunters. "He's better than you all, despite being human."

A whisper ran through the Hero’s Forge and Draal looked around, half expecting the souls around him to coalesce into Kanjigar's figure. But his father didn’t appear.

"He's the best Trollhunter we've ever had, after Dreya. He defeated Bular. And Angor Rot. Located a myth and unlocked a weapon none of you have. He stepped into the Darklands!" Draal’s voice rose as he spoke until it rang loud enough to echo in the entire chamber.

"He's better," he whispered, voice soft now. "And it’s because he did the opposite of what you encouraged, Father. Of what you all did. He embraced his friends. Made new ones of those perhaps he shouldn’t."

Because, half a year later, Draal still found himself puzzled at his relationship with the Trollhunter. Draal had, after all, tried to kill him. And yet there had only been a slight hesitance in accepting his assistance with the sword. And none at all when Draal offered to protect the Hunter's home.

It was a human thing, Draal observed. Being willing to open up to others so quickly, relying on them. Maybe it had to do with life spans. It took a good century for a new troll relationship to form. Less than the average human lifespan.

Something of Jim, and Toby and Claire too if Draal was being honest, had rubbed off on Draal. He, in an untroll-like manner, craved company. He wanted to train with others, talk to them. Wait out the daylight hours with Aaarrrgh in the basement tunnel. Quiz Jim about the shows on TV during the evenings Bar-Bu-Ra wasn’t home.

Friends, as opposed to admirers or those who expected things of him, were a new thing. Draal didn’t want to push them away. He wanted to pull them tight to his chest and never let them out of sight.

But Aaarrrgh was stone. Blinky refused to leave his library, Toby rarely left his house, and Claire had thrown herself into Blinky’s books to search for hope.

Because Jim had left them, left them all behind.

"He knew we were stronger together," Draal told his father, told all the dead Trollhunters. "He believed in us. And you convinced him he was wrong. That he had to go alone. That we were liabilities, not support."

Draal turned his eyes from the soothsayer to his father’s cold stone. Jim had helped him find every last piece.

"I can't forgive you for that, father."

Draal turned on his heel and walked out.

He locked the Forge behind him. There was little need of it now.

* * *

Draal wandered Trollmarket, not sure of what to do or where to go. His own words echoed back to him, the connections between friends, which was probably what led him to the spindly path that led down into the moat surrounding the heartstone.

Trolls were crystals-wrapped stone, given life and personality by the power of heartstones. And so, when they turned from living stone to cold stone, most were placed lovingly near the root of the heartstone. Over time, the heartstone crystal would creep over the bodies, breaking the stone, and fusing with the crystals inside a troll. This way, a troll could live again. In a way.

The exceptions were Trollhunters, who in being chosen by the Amulet of Daylight were allowed to have their souls rest in the Void. They never truly died, each having an inner crystal thrown into the soothsayer. All Hunters lived on, just out of reach.

Draal walked through the remains of the recent dead, all from Angor Rot's rampage through Trollmarket. There were more than he would have liked but still less than he expected.

He came to a standstill before a rough drawing of Aaarrrgh. As his people had claimed his body, his stone and crystals didn’t lie at the heartstone’s base. Someone, probably Claire, had drawn the image and left a bouquet of flowers stuffed in a sock. Trolls didn’t believe in such sentiment. Cold stone was cold stone. Mourning was brief.

And yet, Draal stood here.

Mourning.

Not for Aaarrrgh, he had died a glorious death. But for Draal’s sudden loss of what made him happy. Comradery. Training. Action. Self-Worth.

Jim.

His recent life had, strangely, revolved around the human hunter. Train him. Protect him. Help him.

Ease his worries. Spend time with him.

Being friends.

Now, Draal felt as if he dangled from a cliff edge, not sure how to pull himself up as the world dropped away.

Jim was gone. Blinky and Claire had dived into books Draal had little patience to read. Toby refused to come to Trollmarket and Draal knocking on his door had involved an awkward conversation with Nanna and no sight of the chubby boy.

He wanted to help all of them, any of them, but didn’t know how.

Feeling lonely and useless, he resigned himself to sitting in a corner of Blinky’s library quietly.

* * *

“Dr. Lake gets released today.”

Draal froze at the sound of Claire’s voice. She whispered, like she always did when the subject involved Bar-Bu-Ra or Jim’s absence. It scared Draal more than the highly focused, clipped monotone she used when searching for ways to open the bridge.

All sounds of shuffling paper stopped.

“How is Barbara?” Blinky asked.

“I saw her, once. She didn’t know Jim and I were friends. She doesn’t remember anything of the past few months. I thought it would just be memories of Strickler and Trollmarket, but its everything.”

Silence. Then, “Blinky, what do I do when she gets home and Jim doesn’t show up? She doesn’t know he’s missing.”

Blinky sighed. “We can’t tell her about us. About trolls.”

“She should know what happened to Jim.”

“Claire…” There was the sound of a book snapping shut. Stone footsteps. “It was dark magic that caused and released her from that spell. Obviously, our knowledge of how that works is very limited, as it’s a Gumm-Gumm secret. Case in point, even the cure did not work as we hoped. Her mind is fragile at the moment. Causing her undo strain is inadvisable.”

“You think not knowing where her son is causes less stress than knowing he’s in the Darklands.”

“No doubt. Human minds conjure many horrors, but before you got involved in this would you have worried about goblins or trolls like Angor Rot?”

“No,” Claire admitted, her whisper scratchy. “Now, I have nightmares all the time, about what could happen to Jim.”

“It’s best to save his mother from those, don’t you believe?”

“She’ll believe him a runaway. Or kidnapped. She’ll be distraught.”

“Then we better find a way to track Master Jim down fast. Come, I found something that - “

“I’ll look after Bar-Bu-Ra,” Draal spoke, walking forward to enter the library.

Claire’s face, pale and exhausted, looked up at him with shiny eyes.

“You will?”

“I cannot show myself to her, but I promised to protect the Hunter’s lair and that includes his family. I will keep his mother safe,” Draal promised. He meant it with all of his humming crystals.

“Thank you, Draal.” Claire brushed the side of her hand under her face, rubbing out tears. “That makes me feel better.”

It made him feel better too.

He gave a quick nod to Blinky; the blue troll looked just as grateful as Claire.

“Thank you, friend.”

“It’s my honor.”

* * *

 _That_ night, Toby went home (though he couldn’t remember the journey) and climbed into bed. (He remembered that very well. Pulling down the blankets, the cool pillow on his cheek, the way he opened his mouth to say “night” to Aaarrrggh, only to choke on air. Nana calling for dinner and her later opening of the door to see him “sleeping”.)  He stayed there for the entire weekend, never turning on the lights, facing the wall. Not eating.

The only thing that got him moving was the text alert sound he assigned to Jim.

Except, it hadn’t been Jim. It had been Claire, using Jim’s phone, because Toby had ignored the texts from her.

_Blinky says be normal w/ school & stuff. Don’t give away we know anything. Janus cant know what Jim did. Trolls must be hidden._

* * *

 

_I promise, I will never leave you like that. Or at least, not intentionally._

Barbara was disappointed when she had to take a cab home alone from the hospital. Frustrated when she got home to find an empty house. Worried when midnight came and still Jim hadn't come through the door.

The longer the night went on, the more her mind nibbled on that one word. _Intentionally._

Jim had been hiding something from her. But while she knew it gave her son trouble, she hadn’t believed it _serious_ trouble. A bully, perhaps. An underground bike racing ring.

Now, Barbara suspected her son’s secret was nothing so benign.

_I promise, I will never leave you like that. Or at least, not intentionally._

The last word echoed and echoed. She surprised herself, falling asleep at all. Worry and fear should have kept her up.

Still, her mind only allowed her four hours of sleep. She woke up to Jim’s bed empty, unslept in. By five-thirty, she turned Jim's room upside down looking for that darned letter. She’d found it in a cookbook, days after he’d said he’d never leave, and kept it in her nightstand until Jim ended up in the hospital.

Barbara wanted to hear what was going on from her son’s own mouth. Now, it may be too late.

The letter she’d returned to Jim wasn’t in his room.

It wasn’t in her room.

Or in another cookbook. Or a DVD case. Or the bathroom. Or any of the random boxes in the basement, though she noticed it seemed much cleaner than it did the last time she’d been downstairs.

Nowhere.

The letter was gone, she feared Jim was too.

* * *

 

Head injuries required mandatory medical leave. Especially those that robbed you of almost two months of memories. It meant she had all day to wait for Jim to come home. Maybe he spent the night at Toby’s, disregarding the no sleepovers on school days rule. (It didn’t explain why Jim didn’t pick up his phone. Didn’t text.)

Barbara had tried to call Walt, to see if Jim showed up to class, but all her calls went to voicemail. She spent the day sitting at the table, drinking coffee mug after coffee mug to stay awake, and stared out the window watching Toby’s house.

When Toby made his appearance, hours after school finished, Barbara leapt from her chair and out the front door.

She dismissed Toby’s pale face and hanging head, eager to get answers.

“Toby! Tobias!” she called, running across the street.

Toby turned toward her and hunched. She knew, _knew,_ that Toby had some idea about Jim. They were best friends, after all.

“Toby!”

He turned towards her, eyes down and gutted.

“Toby, please,” Barbara caught Toby’s hand. Brought it to her chest as she bent down. “Where’s Jim?”

“I, I don’t know, Mrs. Lake. He didn’t come to school today.”

“Toby, what aren’t you telling me?”

The teen turned his head, gaze settling on Jim’s bedroom window.

“He, he wanted to do something. Alone. He left us all behind.”

“Do what, Toby?”

Toby shook his head. “I’m sorry, Dr. Lake, I have homework.” He pulled his hand out of hers.

“Tobias Domzalski, you tell me where my son is right now!”

“It’s the truth, Dr. Lake. I don’t know where he is.”

* * *

 

That night, instead of attempting to make dinner, Barbara called the Arcadia Police Department to report a missing child.

* * *

 

Being normal was harder to be than Toby expected.

That week at school had been tough (teachers asking if Jim was at the hospital with his mom, Jim’s empty seat, Claire’s eyes’ shadows, the teachers’ secret fluster over the principal’s disappearance, a cafeteria lunch, the emptiness of what to do after the final bell) but coming home Thursday was the worse. Being confronted by Dr. Lake and telling her he knew nothing.

The guilt of his lie got overshadowed by not finding Aaarrrgh in his bedroom waiting to play Go Go Sushi.

 _Be normal._ Toby snorted at Claire, and through her Blinky. He’d settle for not bursting into tears and spilling everything to Dr. Lake. (He managed to play dumb for the police.)

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Curious as to the birth/death cycle of trolls? All is explained on my Tumblr. [A Troll's Life Cycle](https://uniasus.tumblr.com/post/157470508443/a-trolls-life-cycle)


	2. Grief-Stricken

She knew the police talked to Toby. And Claire. Her memory loss meant she forgot her son had a girlfriend, but the police had identified Claire as Jim’s boyfriend. They also told her they had no leads.

Barbara spent every day of her forced medical leave doing what she could to find Jim. Search the town, call the cell phone company to track his phone, go through his laptop and room for any scrape of a clue. Used her hospital access to go through hospital records, looking for young John Does that might be Jim.

Nothing.

Nothing but sounds from the basement and creaks from the stairs.

* * *

 

Draal’s day by day didn’t change too much. He stayed in the basement, making no noise. Nights were different. Instead of training, he looked after the woman who lived above him.

Bar-Bu-Ra, frantically looking for Jim, drove herself to exhaustion every night. She hadn’t gone back to work, so spent the days making phone calls and sobbing while using the kitchen appliances. After she passed out on the couch, Draal took care to put her in bed and tidy the house.

So far, she didn’t seem to notice anything. Draal did not know if she convinced herself she did the chores, or attributed it to her memory still behaving awful. Be it the effects of the cure or her worry, Bar-Bu-Ra often forgot to eat too. Draal fell into the habit of cutting food for easy snacks and placing them around the house.

Caring for Bar-Bu-Ra was not a glamorous assignment. It lacked glory. Honor. Kanjigar would never do what Draal did now. 

Yet it felt like the most important job in the world.

* * *

 

Going to Jim’s house once a week after school helped Toby a small bit. Once, years ago when they were younger (but it was a pinky promise and so held for forever) they determined that if anything happened to either family, the other would take care of them. (It had been a great comfort to Toby when Nana had fallen down the stairs during 7th grade and Toby had fretted over the idea of her passing before he finished high school. He’d stayed with Jim for a week, and Dr. Lake had said if Nana did pass before Toby turned 18, she’d adopt him.)

Well, something had happened to Jim. That meant Toby had to take care of Dr. Lake.

Not that making her a loaf of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches did a whole lot, but Toby didn’t know what else Dr. Lake ate. She had lost weight. Toby finally had too.

* * *

 

While Claire and Blinky simply thanked Draal for updates on Bar-Bu-Ra, Toby sobbed over half completed meals in the fridge on the rare occasions he came into the Lake household. They were moments Draal hated seeing, and yet loved, because he felt useful in taking away some of his friends’ worries.

They were matched by the stabs of guilt in his chest on the nights he found Bar-Bu-Ra asleep in a chair wearing Jim’s clothes. He would carry her up the stairs, Jim’s words in his ears. _Thank you for looking after my mom. It’s a relief knowing she’s safe._

Except the best thing, for everyone, would be to find Jim. To hunt him down in the Darklands and bring him back.

Claire would smile, Blinky would laugh, Toby would leave the house, and Bar-Bu-Ra would sleep.

* * *

 

One month.

Every day, Draal’s hope in getting Jim back dropped. It had taken less time to discover Merlin’s poem and hunt down the first Triumbric stone, something no one had accomplished before. Why hadn’t Blinky found a way to get to Jim?

Logically, Draal knew it was good he hadn’t. Getting to the Darklands should not be easy, for several reasons.

Still, as Blinky poured over books, Draal found himself watching the humans wither.

Claire had traded troll texts for human ones, something about exams and threats of summer school. She had turned pale. Skinny. No sun and little food. NotEnrique frequently came to visit and nibbled at his claws as he worried about his big sis.

Toby, to Draal’s limited knowledge, had taken to sitting alone in the dark in his room. At least, his bedroom rarely filled with light, florescent or TV. And when he came to check on Bar-Bu-Ra he looked thinner each time.

Bar-Bu-Ra had new wrinkles and gray hairs, bags under her eyes and ever looser pants. She left notes to herself around the house to remember what she did and kept an old one always on the fridge for her son. _Love ya, Jim. See you tonight._

Clarie’s old words about telling Bar-Bu-Ra sounded in Draal’s head. Echoed by a faint conversation he hadn’t wanted to overhear in the heartstone.

_Promise me you’ll tell me._

Enough was enough.

Blinky couldn’t help. Sunlight and the important job of trying to _find_ something got in the way.  And Draal, Draal knew he helped. As much as he could. But nothing made Bar-Bu-Ra smile or sob as much as Toby coming over to make her eat, but not saying what he knew about Jim.

It was time to tell Bar-Bu-Ra, regardless of what Blinky had told Claire a month ago.

 _Knowing_ was better than _wondering._ Knowing a fellow warrior was dead, instead of worrying about it. If you asked him.

* * *

 

Sometimes, Toby would play a game. Who did he miss more, Aaarrrggh or Jim? Not that it was really a game. But sometimes he would miss one more than the other. Sometimes he would dream that Aaarrrgh had survived, but Jim still left worried about the other trollhunters’ safety. Other times, Toby had been able to convince Jim to stay through his tears for Aaarrrggh.

Toby didn’t know which dream was worse. They both hurt. (But most times, he missed Aaarrrgh worse. Was that bad? To miss your roommate of five months more than your best friend of fourteen years?) Until he had one where Claire darted ahead, catching Jim’s wrist just as Killaheed bridge closed and they both disappeared.

Losing two friends was enough. Losing more, even the idea, made him spend an hour vomiting.

Nana called him in sick.

Toby spent the day in bed, crying.

Then he texted Claire.

_Help w smthng aftr school?_

* * *

 

When Claire showed up on his doorstep, Toby could tell she made every effort to not look behind her at Jim’s house.

Toby couldn’t escape the sight himself, seeing as how it was across the street. (But he never looked at Jim’s window.) Instead, he stared at the girl in front of him.

Despite being in similar classes, despite seeing her every day, Toby felt like this was the first time he actually saw her since _then._ She kept squinting, as if developing the need for glasses, and her skin had the paleness of having not seen the sun for a month. And she was _Latina_. It took a lot of effort for her to look that pale. Effort, extended periods underground, and limited sleep.

Claire rocked back on her heels. “You’ve… been dieting.”

“You’re fit.” Toby poked her visible bicep.

“Blinky, he’s, well. We’ll have to fight, in the future. I wanted to be prepared. Blinky wouldn’t train me, but he gave me exercises. I do a hundred push-ups every morning.”

“I… wow.”

Claire had been preparing, while Toby sat around and did nothing but snack in the dark. He felt ashamed of himself.

Claire placed a hand on Toby’s shoulder. “I’m glad you texted, Tobes. I’ve, well, I’ve missed you.”

Toby hadn’t given Claire much thought, another tally of shame. But she was grieving too. And after last night, where he dreamed he’d been left alone –

Toby rocked forward to pull her into a hug. “I missed you, too.”

Silly. Silly, of the pair of them. They had already lost two friends. They shouldn’t lose each other too.

They both sniffled more than a little (Toby didn’t mention it and Claire didn’t either) before pulling back.

“You wanted help with something?” Claire asked.

“Uh, yeah.” Toby opened the door and let her enter. As she toed her shoes off, Toby said, “I want to rearrange my room.”

Claire, thankfully, didn’t ask why. “Okay. So you need help moving furniture.”

“Yes.”

“Do you know where you want everything?”

“I – not really. I just want it to change.”

Claire nodded. “Lead the way.”

* * *

 

It didn’t take long, moving things around. Gone was the empty space by the window, Chompsy’s house stood under the glass and blocked part of the view. The bed switched sides, the TV where the bed used to be (so Toby didn’t look at Jim’s house while using it), and his dresser hit the foot of bed, perfect to place bowls and cups on.

Both teens stood in the center of the bedroom, slightly sweating from all the huffing and puffing, but smiling. Toby couldn’t remember the last time he did that.

“Looks good, Toby.”

“Thanks, Claire. You, you want a snack?”

“Yes, please.”

Toby led the way downstairs, pushing aside cats. He pulled Snowball Puffers out of the sink to fill two glasses of water. Then he opened cabinets. Nana had all his favorite junk food, but Toby found none of them interested him. He settled for a box of Mini-Wheats and poured them dry into a bowl he placed between him and Claire on the table.

“Thank you, again, for helping. I, I needed the change.”

Claire nodded. “I think everyone has done something similar.”

“Hmm.” Toby popped a piece in his mouth. They ate in companionable silence until Claire broke it.

“Have you spoken to Draal?”

“Draal?”

“You know, tall, blue troll?”

Toby shot Claire a glare, “I know who Draal is. Haven’t talked to him though. Haven’t gone to Trollmarket since… _then.”_

“He’s not in Trollmarket. He’s still in Jim’s basement.” How she managed to say Jim’s name in such a steady manner, Toby had no idea. He rarely used it this past month.

“Why is he in,“ Toby swallowed, “ Jim’s basement?”

Claire turned her gaze to the bowl of cereal bits between them. “Probably the same reason you go over there once a week. To help Dr. Lake.”

“Hmm.” Toby popped another piece of spun grain and frosting into his mouth. He rarely felt snackish these days. Might as well eat while he felt like it.

“Sometimes,” Claire continued, “He’ll come down to Trollmarket and give us updates on how she’s doing and such.”

“What are you even doing, down there Claire?”

“A few things.” She shrugged. “Blinky has sworn off training me, but like I said, he gave me ideas for exercises that I do at home. Draal, Draal closed the Forge and no one can get in. It hasn’t been closed in centuries, so there was some grumbling. But since it’s a Trollhunter thing, it needs the amulet to be opened.”

Again, her gaze dropped to the bowl of Mini-Wheats. Toby found himself looking away too. Talking about Jim, thinking about him, hurt. He didn’t want to cry in front of a girl.

“So!” Claire’s forced cheer almost echoed in the small kitchen. “I sometimes run one of the rock trails. I’ve found an empty spot where I work with the staff. Bagdwella needs something done once a week, I swear. No more things for the mail though.”

She chuckled. Toby smiled. The day hadn’t been funny at all, and he still felt a little guilty Bagdwella’s sister never got her package. But, well, everything had worked out and he had managed to help Jim. That’s all that mattered.

“Mostly,” Claire said around cereal piece she nibbled, “I help Blinky look through all the books.”

“For what?”

“For what? To find a way to the Darklands, of course! We were going to go before anyway. And now that Jim’s there too we have double the reason to go!” She fumed. “Don’t tell me you’re not going to come with us? I know Aaarrrggh’s death hit you hard, but –“

“It’s not just Aaarrrggh!”

Claire stared at Toby, eyes wide. He sat there, chest heaving, mouth open. Neither of them had expected the shout.

“It’s not just Aaarrrggh,” Toby repeated. Softer. His eyes connected with Claire’s, someone else he didn’t want to lose to Gunmar, then slid to the side. The kitchen window overlooked the backyard, but Toby imagined the other side of the street. Jim’s house. “We lost Jim too.”

“Jim’s still –“

“Even if he is his alive, which I highly doubt, he won’t be much longer.”

Claire clenched her fist. “After all he’s done, you don’t think he can survive the Darklands? Some best friend you are.”

“You don’t know anything, Claire!” Toby jabbed a finger in her face, other elbow pressing against the table. She leaned back and Toby’s anger faded.

He’d never been much of an angry person. And being so now felt draining. Toby slumped into his seat.

“You’re being a butt.”

“I’m not.” Toby brought his hands up to his face, pressing the knuckles of his fists to his eyebrows. With a sigh, he dropped them. He stared at the food before him, but ignored it for the plastic table under the bowl.

“By the time you joined the team, we are ready realized we were a team. Jim’s not like previous Hunters.” He looked up at Claire. She was giving him a _no kidding_ look, but made no sign to interrupt.

“I don’t mean that he’s human. I mean, Draal could tell you all about Kanjigar. How he pushed friends and family away, focused only on how to be the best Trollhunter he could. Jim did it different.”

“He did insist on calling us trollhunter _s_.” She exaggerated the _s_. 

Toby nodded. “Jim, there were a few close calls, early on. Not just that time in the woods, but there was a stalking. He wore a fearless amulet and went after Bular in the sewers. I mean, teamwork is awesome, that’s how we beat Angor Rot and destroyed Killiheed Bridge, but those earlier times?” Toby spread his hands out over the table, palms up.

“What do you mean?” Claire asked.

Toby pressed his lips together. Why had it been easier to talk to Jim about this?

“The stalking? All Jim had to do was be in the presence of someone else and he’d be safe. The grit-shaka thing? All I had to do was pull up a sewer cover. These are things anyone could do, they’re so simple, but they saved his life. Even that time in the woods, if you hadn’t come running with your dad, Nomura would have dragged Jim off.

“Just, just _being there_ , even if it’s not fighting, can _save him._ He needs help. And he took none with him. I don’t – I don’t believe he can rescue your brother, defeat Gunmar, and come back. This stuff is scary and huge. And Jim’s alone.”

Claire looked torn between whacking him with her staff (those new muscles would make it smart fierce) or pull him into a hug. Toby hoped for neither.

Instead, she puffed up. If she had been one of Nana’s cats, Toby was sure her hair would have bristled out too.

“You’re his best friend! You of all people should believe in Jim’s ability to succeed!”

“Being the Trollhunter is dangerous!”

“Which is why we help him!”

“We can’t do that on this side of the bridge!”

“So we cross!”

“Even if we did, we’d be too late!”

“I refuse to think that.” Claire switched from pissed off to somber in two seconds flat.

Toby followed suit. “That’s all I been thinking. All month. I, we, lost both of them, Claire. _Both._ Aaarrrggh and Jim. And we can’t even tell anyone.”

Claire tried to reach across the table to clasp Toby’s shoulder, but he pulled back. “That why I asked if you talked to Draal. We have proof Jim’s alive and Draal managed to convince Blinky we should tell Dr. Lake.”

“ _What?”_

“Telling Dr. Lake? It’s only-“

“That’s not what I mean and you know it, Claire Nuñez. What do you mean, Jim’s alive?”

“There’s no new Trollhunter.”

Toby gave her the stink eye. “You sure the amulet’s not just sitting in the Darklands?”

“There are cracks. We have the fetch. If the amulet needed a new wielder, it would appear to them.”

Toby contemplated. “That’s what Blinky thinks?”

“That’s what Blinky knows. Apparently… Dreya did the same thing. Drove the Gumm-Gumms through the bridge and died over there. The amulet returned here when she died.” She beamed at Toby. “See, Jim’s alive.”

Part of Toby wanted to agree, to feel so stupid about grieving for a month when he could have been productive. But things hadn’t changed. Jim was still in the Darklands. Alone. And Aaarrrgh was gone.

Jim being alive and rescuable seemed almost too incredible. He was in the most dangerous place ever. He could be dead in the next week, day, hour. But Toby wanted to believe so bad his best friend was okay. He’d made it one month, maybe he could make it another.

 _You’re my adventure, Tobes,_ Jim had said once on the steps of Trollmarket.

 _You’re mine too,_ Toby answered in his head.

“Yeah. Yeah, okay. Let’s go save his butt from the Darklands. But we’re telling Dr. Lake?”

Claire nodded. “Draal’s taking this his job watching her very seriously. He thinks this is for the best.”

“Probably,” Toby sighed. “She’s been a mess, what with the memory loss and Jim gone and…”

They had all be a mess, Toby supposed. They were currently a mess, and probably would be until they dragged Jim home.

“I – Jim wrote her a letter. We should give her that first.”

“Okay. After finals next week?”

“Yeah.”


	3. The Troll in the Basement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barbara learns about her son's secret life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Edit notes 8/25/18** : What was originally the first three chapters have been condensed and rearranged into chapters 1 and 2. Chapter 3 has some old stuff but is primarily new.

The first Monday of summer break, Barbara woke to the sound of the doorbell. Groggy, for these days she pushed herself to exhaustion in order to sleep without nightmares and never got more than five hours a night, she opened the door. It took a few eye rubs to understand who was there.

Toby and Claire, the girl holding her baby brother.

Barbara’s eyes zoomed on the envelopes in their hands. The wrinkled one in Claire’s. The food stains on the two Toby held. One unopened.

She didn’t have to wear her glasses to know those letters were from Jim.

“He wrote you letters too?”

“A long time ago,” Claire said. “When we had just started practicing for the play. Early February.”

February. It was June! How long had Jim been in this mess?

“He knew that far in advance he might disappear?”

“Yes. No.” Toby shuffled his weight. “He wrote these because of something else. A different event. But what he says inside, that still matters now. In this situation.” He stroked the edge of his envelop. “Matters more, maybe, though this time he's being stupid.”

Barbara held out her hand. “Give me mine.”

Claire pushed her hand down and Barbara turned to her, furious. “I need to know what happened to Jim.”

“I know, but, trust us, please, Dr. Lake. Let’s go inside first. Sit you down. Toby and I can then answer any questions you have.”

* * *

_Mom,_

_Never forget that I love you. Family takes care of each other, and you have taken such good care of me. I only regret that I can no longer take care of you._

_See, funny thing is, I found this magic amulet. No joke. And like Sailor Moon, I get a suit of armor and sword. The spirit of Merlin chose me to take care of more than just you. I have to protect the whole world now, and not just ours._

_Apparently, Merlin was a troll. I’m guessing, I haven’t actually asked. But beneath Arcadia, there’s a whole civilization of them and I have to protect them too. There are bad trolls, Gumm-Gumms, that apparently only I can stop._

_That’s why I get home late. And have bruises. I’ve been training. Fighting. Learning how to protect everyone and doing okay at it too. I didn’t tell you, because, well, I didn’t want to worry you. That, and I know this sounds a little, okay a lot, insane. I didn’t know if you would believe me._

_I’m telling you this now, writing you this now, because there’s a chance that I won’t come home tonight. This protecting thing, this Trollhunter job (for that’s what the trolls call me) has gotten me hurt, and tomorrow, as I write this, possibly killed. I want you to know that I will always do my best to take care of you. I tried to come home._

_I love you, Mom._

_-Jim_

* * *

 

“Jim’s dead?” Barbara whispered.

“We don't think so,” Toby said, “Not while the Amulet of Daylight still glows.”

“You’re a part of this, this troll hunting.”

“Yes.” Claire placed her brother on the table. “Toby’s been in it since the beginning, I joined up in April.”

“There’s a lot that’s happened since Jim wrote those letters, Dr. Lake,” Toby said.

“And,” Claire looked down at her hands, “I feel it’s my fault he left.”

Barbara reached across the table to grasp one of their hands in each of hers. “Tell me everything.”

Toby took a deep breath and began. 

* * *

 

It sounded like a kids show. Jim had found an amulet; or rather, it had found him with promises of destiny and purpose. How appropriate that he called himself ‘Sailor Moon’ in Barbara’s letter. Destiny, armor, and sword. Most kids jumped at the idea of being special, the chosen one.

Jim didn’t.

“He flipped,” Toby said. “I didn’t, I thought it was cool. But Jim was worried. It sounded dangerous. Deadly. Blinky mentioned most Trollhunters had centuries of training behind them. He gave Jim a week.”

Barbara paled.

“Don’t worry, Dr. Lake! He learned on the job. Real fast. His chef skills work with swords, sorta.”

“Draal says he’s the best Trollhunter ever,” Claire threw out.

“Draal?” Barbara asked.

“You’ll meet him later,” Toby promised before diving back into the story.

Jim’s life, it turned out, was a weird balance between school, trolls, and keeping the two not only separate but ensuring they didn’t know about each other. He had managed a decent job, Claire apparently took his original confession to be a metaphor, but things got complicated due to Mr. Strickler.

“Walt?” Barbara asked. “How does he fall into this?”

“He’s like me.”

Barbara didn’t know what shocked her the most. That Claire’s baby brother, barely six months old, was capable of proper speech, or that he spoke with a Scottish brogue. He also walked like a gorilla, using his fists to lift himself onto the table from Claire’s lap.

“I’m what trolls call a changlin’.”

“A change-“

Barbara’s voice died as Enquire changed. His baby pink skin turned a puke green. His wisp of hair turned from blond to copper. Longer jaw, bulkier shoulders, defined pecs, purple and broken nails.

A troll.

Barbara tightened her hand on her coffee mug’s handle and swung. The thick porcelain collided with the side of his head, shattering. The troll skidded an inch to the left and fell.

“NotEnrique!” Claire cried, instantly reaching out to help the troll up.

“Oh, oh, I’m sorry.” Barbara’s hands hovered over the troll, not sure what to do. It had been instinct. See something strange. It’s a threat. Attack. Never mind that she’d learned a lot in the past half hour. Knew that this troll had most likely helped Jim.

“I’m fine.” The troll brushed off Claire’s hand, as well as the bits of porcelain on his skin and in his diaper. “Not a scratch.”

And it was true, Barbara noted. The mug had shattered, sending dregs of coffee to the table, but the troll was unharmed. Stone skin, her medical mind guessed, already analyzing troll biology. She’d always had a love for science fiction biology.

“I’m still sorry.” Barbara hurried to the kitchen to grab a towel. With it, she mopped up the spilled coffee. The troll-baby, changeling, NotEnrique, reached for the dirty cloth and she handed it over, thinking he would use it to wipe coffee off his arms. Instead, the green troll sniffed it before ripping into the towel like a loaf of bread.

It had been her favorite hand towel, it said _World’s Worst Cook_ and had been a present from Jim. But she let it go, still ashamed over hitting NotEnrique and knowing she had something a little better in front of her. A letter in Jim’s own handwriting.

“How are you related to Walt?” Barbara asked as she watched Not Enrique swallow the last bit of towel.

“He’s a changelin’, like me,” NotEnrique said. He sat down on the table between Claire and Toby. “But the thing is, changlin’s? Most of us work for Bular and through him, Gunmar. Which, you know, wanted to kill your son.”

And so Barbara listened to the more dangerous parts of the story. The fights with Bular. The random troll attacks. Walt and more changelings, a troll named Angor Rot who also had the power of magic.

“That’s why you can’t remember anything,” Toby said, looking at the table. “Jim learned fast, and he learned well. Draal and Binky are good teachers. And because of that, Strickler needed insurance. So he had Angor Rot cast a spell – any harm that happened to Strickler would happen to you, Dr. Lake.”

“And we mean anything,” Claire added. “Bruises, paper cuts. Jim couldn’t protect himself against Strickler without hurting you.”

Barbara gripped her hands tight under the table, while he tried to keep her face bland. No use exposing her emotions to the children in front of her. “Is that what happened? Walt killed Jim?”

“Jim’s not dead.” Claire crossed her arms and huffed.

Barbara took in the fine muscles under the girl’s shirt, as well as the beginnings of hollow cheeks and her deep under eye circles. She’d been wearing herself thin, most likely with exercise, because she thought she could help Jim. It made Barbara happy, to know that Jim’s girlfriend loved him so much. And sad they hadn’t gotten to know each other this month. 

“Angor Rot got loose,” NotEnrique offered, using his foot to scratch behind his ear. “Came after not just Stickler, but all of Trollmarket.”

“We fought and won,” Toby said. “But a lot of people died.”

The three of them traded experiences, battles, consequences, and tactics. Barbara got the feeling that, even though Toby, Claire, and NotEnrique had all been there, had all fought, they hadn’t decompressed from the battle. Hadn’t shared experiences till now, a month later.

And so Barbara learned about the consequence of breaking the spell between her and Walt. The defeat of Angor Rot. The death of Aaarrrggh. And Jim’s desire to keep as many people safe as possible.

“He didn’t want anyone else to get hurt,” Claire sniffed. “So he went into the Darklands. Alone.”

“It was stupid. He should have taken us with him,” Toby added, wiping at his face even as the tears continued to come.

Barbara bit the inside of her lip. There was a lot she wanted to do right now. Her own crying part of that. But sitting before her were two distressed teens, dealing with grief and guilt and probably some form of PTSD.

She could deal with her own emotions later.

Barbara stood up, walked around the table, and crouched down between the two of them before pulling the teens into a hug. They sagged sideways off the chairs into her arms, all pointy elbows and snotty faces, and continued to cry inanities of “we’re sorry” and “we’ll find him.” NotEnriquie looked out of place, but he did his best. Patting Claire on the shoulder and saying “there, there, big sis.”

Barbara gave Claire and Toby each a one-armed squeeze. “None of this is your fault. You’re _sixteen._ You did what you could, and it sounds like Jim did his best to make sure you couldn’t follow.” She bit the inside of her lip to hold back tears. “He’s always looking after people. He’s been mothering me for years, it makes sense he’d to it to his best friends too.”

Toby wailed, curling into Barbara’s left side. She tried to ignore how thin he’d gotten. She’d noticed, the past few times he’d come over, but not enough to comment. Like the teens, she’d sunk into her grief. With the added complication of shaking off brain damage.

Or rather, a magic spell.

Barbara pulled them all together for one tight hug before letting go. “Thank you for telling me. But I have to ask. Why now?”

“Draal.” Claire rubbed at her eyes.

“That’s the second time you’ve mentioned him. Who is he? Aside from a troll.”

“He’s, well, Jim’s declared protector I guess. And friend.” Toby shrugged. “His dad was the Trollhunter before Jim. He was mad at Jim about it before, challenged Jim to a fight to the death which is why he wrote those letters to begin with. But Jim won. And then Draal came to live here.”

“Here?!” Barbara pulled back, scanning around her house, looking for another troll.

And found, who she presumed to be Draal, standing sheepishly in the kitchen entrance holding a round of tea on a platter.

She stared, mouth refusing to do anything but hang open. He was tall and a vibrant blue that reminded her of turbo engines in science fiction films. As she stared, he hunched in on himself, self-conscious, and the click of metal on plastic drew Barbara’s attention his brass right arm.

“Tea?” NotEnrique whined. “Can’t we have something harder? She looks like she could use a drink.”

Barbara snapped her attention back to the changeling, frowning. Yes. She desperately wanted a drink. But she wasn’t going to reach for one.

Yet.

“No alcohol. Toby and Claire are minors. And you, NotEnriquie, may be a century old but I think you’re still a troll minor.”

“Am not!” NotEnrique simultaneous pouted at Barbara while picking wax out of his ear.

“It’s true,” Draal said, drawing Barbara’s attention to him again. He walked forward, surprisingly comfortable with his bulk in the confining parts of the house, to set the tea down on the table. “Trolls have no drinking age.”

Barbara didn’t know what surprised her more, the great crystal that appeared to be growing out of Draal’s back or how different his voice was from NotEnrique. It had a soothing quality and belonged on nature documentaries.

Draal passed out tea. Barbara took hers with a murmured thanks, staring at Draal. He shuffled on his feet, self-aware and almost shy in a way she found charming.

“I’m sorry for using the kitchen without permission-“

Barbara waved her hand through the air. “If it’s because of you I know what happened to Jim, like these kids tell me, use my kitchen all you want.”

“Thank you. You might need to buy more spoons.”

“Spoons?”

“I, uh, couldn’t help but eat a few over the past month.”

She blinked. Had she noticed the lack of spoons? Maybe. And then assumed they were all in the dishwasher.

Toby groaned. “Be happy you don’t have pets. Aaarrggh liked to… liked to…” He sniffed, brushing at his running nose. “He ate the stray cats Nana liked to pick up. And the kitty litter, even from the litter box.”

Barbara wrinkled her nose and to her relief found Draal making a similar face.

“I have better taste than Aaarrrggh did. Though I admit I like the hot rocks in the basement,” he turned to Barbara and offered an apologetic half-smile.

She blinked, remembering having to buy more coal than usual the past six months. How long had Draal been living in her basement?

Claire’s phone vibrated. She picked it out of her pocket, then sighed. “My parents are asking where I am. I said I would only take Enrique for a short walk.”

“I’ll see you two out,” Barbara said standing.  

They said their goodbyes on the porch, but she made sure to grasp Toby and Claire’s hands before they went down the stairs. “Thank you. For giving me that letter and explaining all of this to me.”

“I’m sorry we didn’t stop Jim,” Toby whispered.

“I know, but I don’t blame you. That’s entirely his fault and when he gets back he’s grounded for a decade.” Barbara trailed off because she wasn’t sure if Jim would be coming back.

“We’ll drag him back for you, so you can do it,” Claire offered.

With one last squeeze, Barbara let the children go. They looked a little lighter than they had an hour ago. Taking a deep breath, Barbara looked up at the sky.

Jim was far, far away. Another realm. But he was alive and she could stop having nightmares about his body in ditches.  Know that the weeks of fighting hadn't driven him away. Jim hadn't left her like his father did. They had a life alert system, of a sort. If something happened to Jim, she’d know. And in the meantime, she could pray a lot. Once upon a time, she knew how to use a pistol. Maybe she should take that up again in addition to her Krav Maga class.

When she entered the house again, she found Draal wiping down the table. She hurried to help him. “You don’t have to clean up.”

“Nonsense,” he waved the towel at her. “I’ve been cleaning up after you for a month.”

Barbara blushed in embarrassment. “You shouldn’t have had to do that.” She couldn’t imagine what Draal thought of her listlessness, her inability to do even the simplest things.

Draal placed a hand on her shoulder. Despite being made of stone, the appendage felt warm and safe. Familiar, even, and she wondered how many times he’d carried her to bed or covered her in blankets.

“I owe my life to the Trollhunter. Because of that, I swore to protect his home. That includes you, Bar-bu-ra. Taking care of you has been an honor. As well as gave me a purpose I have long lost.”

Tossing aside the strangeness of it all, from whatToby and Claire told her to the bio-geological marvel before her, Barbara clasped her hand over Draal’s. “Thank you. For looking after Jim, and now me. And most importantly, for… for…”

She couldn’t say the words, but she felt the tears on her cheeks. Draal gave her a panicking look, before shoving a full roll of paper towels in her facing. Laughing, she took the roll, ripped off a piece, and returned it so she could dab her eyes.

“I’ve fought in many battles,” Draal whispered. “I have lost track of friends in a fight or had them disappear during a short summer night. I know what it is to wonder, to imagine worse and worse scenarios. Having answers was always better, and I hoped that would be a comfort to you.”

“It is,” Barbara said, readjusting her glasses on her nose. “So tell me honestly, please. What are Jim’s chances of surviving?”

Draal grimaced. “Jim is strong. He’s defeated opponents no one expected him to, including the troll that killed my father. His skill set is abnormal, not one of a troll, but he was chosen by the amulet for a reason. He has lived longer than I believed he would, both as a Trollhunter against the Gumm-Gumms and in the Darklands. But much of his strength comes from not being alone.”

He sighed, and Barbara found herself again fascinated by his biology. How did stone breath?

“If Jim found allies in the Darklands,” Draal continued, “I believe he will be fine. His concerns would be basic – food, water. I don’t know how well the Darklands support humans.”

“Jim’s a good boy. I’ve sure he helped someone and their returning the favor.”

“He’s done it before,” Draal admitted, give her a smile.

Suddenly, Barbara felt a million times better.

**Author's Note:**

> Question? Comments? Want to shake me silly? You can do all of the above on my [tumblr!](https://uniasus.tumblr.com)


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